Animal Poems

Animal Poems

Poems About Wild Animals

The animal kingdom is filled with almost an infinite variety of creatures. Scientists discover new species and subspecies every year. Each one is a wonder unto itself and one could labor for years to uncover its secrets. It is an unfortunate fact that the closest that most of us get to wildlife is through bars at the zoo. Our urban lifestyle has the effect of cutting us off from the glorious world of the animal kingdom. Every animal has a lesson to teach us that we are not hearing. We may think that we have evolved away from contact with animal kingdom, the question is, at what cost?

30 Poems on the Wonders of the Animal Kingdom

  1. 1. Cry Of Wolves

    Wolves are wild and beautiful, the heart of the wilderness. Man seems to be foe to everything else on earth including their fellow man.

    Rulers of the night, the wilderness is your home,
    Man in his ignorance won't leave you alone,
    Strong together you hunt for survival,
    Man and his gun your only rival.

    Mistress of the moon, shadows dancing on Northern skies,
    I hear your torment and mournful cries,
    Running, hunting, surviving, dying,
    From frozen mountain tops I hear your crying.

    Great warriors of the night,
    I wish you strength and stamina,
    Courage in your plight.
    You are the heart of the wilderness,
    Cool air and mountain snow,
    You are part of this land but man is your foe.

    So once again the dark night becomes black,
    And howling is heard as wolves gather and pack,
    With spirit and fight, stamina and charm,
    Let no man destroy you, you mean them no harm.

    Brave warriors of the night,
    In the wilderness be,
    Wise and cunning hunters,
    Forever be free.

    Let your howling join the earth,
    May you hunt with no fear,
    Let the mountains echo out,
    The howl of wolves that fills the mountain air.

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    Wolves. Such beautiful creatures you are, and yet, man is out to destroy you. What did you ever do wrong? This was your land for generations. Now it is filled with dim echoes of the forest it...

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  3. 2. Whales: An Innocent Death

    • By Chelsie Woodhead
    •  Published by Family Friend Poems September 2008

    Hi, my name is Chelsie. I am 14 years old and, I am very passionate about all animals, especially whales. I actually wrote this poem in English class, but my teacher never marked it, so I don't know how good it is. I wrote it because I think whaling is an issue that needs to be brought up more often in order to help stop it. I have been trying to express my feelings about whaling in so many ways: making posters, posting videos on the internet, and so much more, but none of them felt right until I wrote this poem. Again, I'm not sure how good it is, but I hope it'll create more awareness.

    Poem Bringing Attention To Whaling

    As the gentle giants swim through the sea,
    Not expecting a thing,
    A sharp metal object is heading their way,
    And they feel a sharp sting.

    They don't know what happened,
    But they feel a lot of pain,
    The innocent creatures,
    Are pulled up by a chain.

    Now they've figured it out,
    They know what's going on,
    A whaling harpoon has hit them,
    A massive violent gun.

    As they're pulled up to the whaling ship,
    Their condition deteriorates,
    They get weaker and weaker,
    They're in a terrible state.

    The last thing they see,
    Just before they die,
    Is the satisfied look,
    In the fisherman's eye.

    I hope this proves,
    How cruel whaling is,
    Well how would you like it,
    If you were treated like this?

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    It was a heartfelt poem. I was really touched by it. I definitely agree that whaling should stop. Whales are my favorite animals.

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  5. 3. A Bird Came Down The Walk

    A poem about birds from Emily Dickinson. Considered by many to be one of the best American Poets. What about this poem makes it a classic?

    A bird came down the walk:
    He did not know I saw;
    He bit an angle-worm in halves
    And ate the fellow, raw.

    And then he drank a dew
    From a convenient grass,
    And then hopped sidewise to the wall
    To let a beetle pass.

    He glanced with rapid eyes
    That hurried all abroad,--
    They looked like frightened beads, I thought;
    He stirred his velvet head

    Like one in danger; cautious,
    I offered him a crumb,
    And he unrolled his feathers
    And rowed him softer home

    Than oars divide the ocean,
    Too silver for a seam,
    Or butterflies, off banks of noon,
    Leap, plashless, as they swim.

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    That's just about the way nature is. I spent time outside watching all the amazing creatures, and they all have busy responsibilities to attend to, so structured to doing their purpose in...

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  6. 4. The Tyger

    William Blake became an apprentice to an engraver at a young age, which was an inspiration for many of his poems. The Tyger in this poem is a symbol of creation and the presence of both good and evil in this world. The Tyger is written in Quatrains (4 line stanzas) and follows an AABB rhyme scheme.

    Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
    In the forests of the night,
    What immortal hand or eye
    Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

    In what distant deeps or skies
    Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
    On what wings dare he aspire?
    What the hand dare seize the fire?

    And what shoulder, and what art,
    Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
    And when thy heart began to beat,
    What dread hand? and what dread feet?

    What the hammer? what the chain?
    In what furnace was thy brain?
    What the anvil? what dread grasp
    Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

    When the stars threw down their spears,
    And watered heaven with their tears,
    Did he smile his work to see?
    Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

    Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
    In the forests of the night,
    What immortal hand or eye,
    Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

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  7. 5. A Minor Bird

    When a person is in a depressed mood even the beautiful song of a bird is grating. Of course, after that moment of irritation, one realizes the problem is not with the bird but with you.

    I have wished a bird would fly away,
    And not sing by my house all day;

    Have clapped my hands at him from the door
    When it seemed as if I could bear no more.

    The fault must partly have been in me.
    The bird was not to blame for his key.

    And of course there must be something wrong
    In wanting to silence any song.

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    I laughed at this poem. I have felt the same way at times. I live in the country, and there is nothing more peaceful than listening to God's natural sounds of nature, but it’s just like any...

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  8. 6. The Eagle

    In this short poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809-1892), he captures the majesty of an eagle hunting from the top of a cliff. This descriptive poem is comprised of tercets (three-line stanzas).

    He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
    Close to the sun in lonely lands,
    Ringed with the azure world, he stands.

    The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
    He watches from his mountain walls,
    And like a thunderbolt he falls.

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    This poem touched my heart as no other poem has. I love nature and most poems don't interest me. When I can, I am outside in nature and when I have to go inside, I fall just like the Eagle at...

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  9. 7. A Narrow Fellow In The Grass

    When the poem was published in the Springfield Daily Republican (Feb. 14, 1866), it was entitled "The Snake."

    A narrow fellow in the grass
    Occasionally rides;
    You may have met him,--did you not,
    His notice sudden is.

    The grass divides as with a comb,
    A spotted shaft is seen;
    And then it closes at your feet
    And opens further on.

    He likes a boggy acre,
    A floor too cool for corn.
    Yet when a child, and barefoot,
    I more than once, at morn,

    Have passed, I thought, a whip-lash
    Unbraiding in the sun,--
    When, stooping to secure it,
    It wrinkled, and was gone.

    Several of nature's people
    I know, and they know me;
    I feel for them a transport
    Of cordiality;

    But never met this fellow,
    Attended or alone,
    Without a tighter breathing,
    And zero at the bone.

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  10. 8. The Fish

    This famous narrative poem transforms an ordinary moment into a gripping story about the moment when the Hunter meets the Hunted. The fisherwoman's catch of a tremendous fish takes an unexpected diversion when she takes the opportunity to observe it at close range. The life story of The Fish as told by its battle scars and beautiful fishiness gives the encounter a personal side and result in things taking an unexpected turn.

    I caught a tremendous fish
    and held him beside the boat
    half out of water, with my hook
    fast in a corner of his mouth.
    He didn’t fight.
    He hadn’t fought at all.
    He hung a grunting weight,
    battered and venerable
    and homely. Here and there
    his brown skin hung in strips
    like ancient wallpaper,
    and its pattern of darker brown
    was like wallpaper:
    shapes like full-blown roses
    stained and lost through age.
    He was speckled with barnacles,
    fine rosettes of lime,
    and infested
    with tiny white sea-lice,
    and underneath two or three
    rags of green weed hung down.
    While his gills were breathing in
    the terrible oxygen
    —the frightening gills,
    fresh and crisp with blood,
    that can cut so badly—
    I thought of the coarse white flesh
    packed in like feathers,
    the big bones and the little bones,
    the dramatic reds and blacks
    of his shiny entrails,
    and the pink swim-bladder
    like a big peony.
    I looked into his eyes
    which were far larger than mine
    but shallower, and yellowed,
    the irises backed and packed
    with tarnished tinfoil
    seen through the lenses
    of old scratched isinglass.
    They shifted a little, but not
    to return my stare.
    —It was more like the tipping
    of an object toward the light.
    I admired his sullen face,
    the mechanism of his jaw,
    and then I saw
    that from his lower lip
    —if you could call it a lip—
    grim, wet, and weaponlike,
    hung five old pieces of fish-line,
    or four and a wire leader
    with the swivel still attached,
    with all their five big hooks
    grown firmly in his mouth.
    A green line, frayed at the end
    where he broke it, two heavier lines,
    and a fine black thread
    still crimped from the strain and snap
    when it broke and he got away.
    Like medals with their ribbons
    frayed and wavering,
    a five-haired beard of wisdom
    trailing from his aching jaw.
    I stared and stared
    and victory filled up
    the little rented boat,
    from the pool of bilge
    where oil had spread a rainbow
    around the rusted engine
    to the bailer rusted orange,
    the sun-cracked thwarts,
    the oarlocks on their strings,
    the gunnels—until everything
    was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow!
    And I let the fish go.

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  11. 9. Ode To A Zebra

    • By Robynne Meulemans
    •  Published by Family Friend Poems August 2017

    I am a free-spirited artist with a passion for animals and nature.

    I'm a stunning display of black and white,
    Contrasting stripes to captivate sight.

    My mane stands up straight and proud.
    Every visual detail about me is loud.

    Black with white stripes is what they say.
    This matters not; I'm beautiful either way.

    Never domesticated; no, not me.
    I'm a zebra and I need to roam free.

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  12. 10. Are There Paw Prints In Heaven?

    I am forever an animal lover, moreso a dog lover. This is a question many times I have heard asked by children, so as I may not be able to answer that question for certain, I did write a poem in hopes that children will enjoy the comfort in the possibility that maybe there will be animals in heaven.

    Do Dogs Go To Heaven

    I hear of a place that is made of gold,
    a place where we shall never grow old,
    but one answer I have not heard at all,
    will there be paw prints from my little dog?
    He promised us joy right from the start.
    I just wonder if she'll be a part.
    So as I sit here and dream of the day,
    I wonder if in heaven she will stay?
    When you're walking down with the saints of old,
    take a glimpse of that new road,
    and if there you shall see,
    maybe a paw print just for me.

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    It's so great! I'm going to use it for a poetry contest in school.

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  13. 11. A View Of A Cat

    Hi I'm Steph. I love writing poems and stories. I feel like I can create a new world whenever I write. I love cats, that's what made me write this cute little concrete poem.

    Concrete Poem

    sleep on
    your bed, making
    it my own, and
    and when you are
    away, I'm at home
    all alone. I walk
    around the food
    bowl, sniffing out
    what's there, and if
    there's nothing good, I
    I look at you and stare. I
    curl up near the fire place
    warming up my paws, I
    pounce upon the scratch
    post, sharpening my claws.
    I see a mouse in front
    staring straight at me, I
    run and try to catch it
    but it runs away from
    thee. You see I am so
    cute, so gorgeous with my
    fur, when
    close my
    and purr.

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    My son, age 9, loves all things cat. He's currently taking a drama class and has to read a poem. This is the one he chose. I just hope he can make it through the poem without giggling. He...

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  14. 12. An Unmarked Grave

    • By Isaac R. Brunacci
    •  Published by Family Friend Poems March 2020

    This poem was inspired when I saw a single bird fall straight from the sky into a bunch of bushes. No one else noticed it and no one would ever notice it. This got me thinking about just how many birds die silently, without recognition... this in turn inspired the bleak but beautiful poem about a bird's final minutes and silent grave.

    The Loss Of A Bird

    The Nightingale sang her song
    For all the world to hear.
    She sang it loud, she sang it true
    To all that had an ear.

    Until one day that glory-bird,
    She landed on a wire,
    And not just any wire was this,
    But barbed, and cut like fire.

    Her song-tune changed, with desperate cry.
    Again, she rent the air,
    But beauty did her song now lack
    And t'was no longer fair.

    Reflected in that song so bitter
    The burning of her chest,
    The aching, jagged, gushing hole
    Through which she stained her vest.

    Once snowy-white, now red with blood,
    Her head, it sagged so low.
    And with one squeak, her eyes did close.
    No more were they to glow.

    And though her magic song is gone,
    No more to bless the ear,
    No one will miss her voice or tune
    Nor mourn her passing here.

    For many other birds will sing
    And most as sweet as she,
    But ne'er again will it be heard
    That voice that was so free.

    And there she stayed, on thorn so hard
    Until she fell away.
    Only a mark, a stain of red
    Shows truly where she lay.

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    This is touching and well spiced with rhetorical devices.

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  15. 13. Animal

    I wrote this poem as I was watching some squirrels play. I got to thinking, animals go through the same emotions we do. They have families, mothers who gave birth to them, but they can't cry or complain. They just can't express themselves through words like we can. I often wonder if that's a better way of living life...

    Poem About Animals Having Feelings

    I was born one day to the sunny sky;
    The light was quite a surprise.
    My mother fed me and kept me warm,
    While I was small in size.

    I had a brother, close to my age,
    To play with every day.
    A feeling of fun I learned,
    Made me happy in every way.

    The days went on and I got older;
    Winter rose before my eyes.
    I felt cold and numb at night,
    Waiting for the sun to rise.

    I was running through the field one day;
    I fell and hurt my toe.
    A feeling of pain and discomfort I found;
    Tears began to flow.

    Days went on and I've healed and gotten better.
    Came the season of happy days
    And sunny weather.

    I don't understand, I know I can't speak,
    But this is all true.
    I cry, and hurt, and play and love,
    I have feelings just like you!

    Poem About Animals Having Feelings, Animal

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    It proves animals have feelings too. They are the same as humans.

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  16. 14. The Humblebee

    Ralph Waldo Emerson was an American essayist, poet, and lecturer who lived from 1803-1882. Emerson believed that nature has knowledge for man to learn, but one must be attentive and willing to study the messages it presents. Emerson believed in the perfection of the natural world because it was not created by humans. This poem touches on the greatness of nature. The bee is seen as a symbol of innocence, and bumblebees used to be known as "humble bees." They are so intent on getting nectar that it's possible to pet them.

    Burly dozing humblebee!
    Where thou art is clime for me.
    Let them sail for Porto Rique,
    Far-off heats through seas to seek,
    I will follow thee alone,
    Thou animated torrid zone!
    Zig-zag steerer, desert-cheerer,
    Let me chase thy waving lines,
    Keep me nearer, me thy hearer,
    Singing over shrubs and vines.

    Insect lover of the sun,
    Joy of thy dominion!
    Sailor of the atmosphere,
    Swimmer through the waves of air,
    Voyager of light and noon,
    Epicurean of June,
    Wait I prithee, till I come
    Within ear-shot of thy hum,--
    All without is martyrdom.

    When the south wind, in May days,
    With a net of shining haze,
    Silvers the horizon wall,
    And, with softness touching all,
    Tints the human countenance
    With a color of romance,
    And, infusing subtle heats,
    Turns the sod to violets,
    Thou in sunny solitudes,
    Rover of the underwoods,
    The green silence dost displace,
    With thy mellow breezy bass.

    Hot midsummer's petted crone,
    Sweet to me thy drowsy tune,
    Telling of countless sunny hours,
    Long days, and solid banks of flowers,
    Of gulfs of sweetness without bound
    In Indian wildernesses found,
    Of Syrian peace, immortal leisure,
    Firmest cheer and bird-like pleasure.

    Aught unsavory or unclean,
    Hath my insect never seen,
    But violets and bilberry bells,
    Maple sap and daffodels,
    Grass with green flag half-mast high,
    Succory to match the sky,
    Columbine with horn of honey,
    Scented fern, and agrimony,
    Clover, catch fly, adders-tongue,
    And brier-roses dwelt among;
    All beside was unknown waste,
    All was picture as he passed.

    Wiser far than human seer,
    Yellow-breeched philosopher!
    Seeing only what is fair,
    Sipping only what is sweet,
    Thou dost mock at fate and care,
    Leave the chaff and take the wheat,
    When the fierce north-western blast
    Cools sea and land so far and fast,
    Thou already slumberest deep,--
    Woe and want thou canst out-sleep,--
    Want and woe which torture us,
    Thy sleep makes ridiculous

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    This poem really touched me. Fantastic work, truly beautiful.

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  17. 15. Prairie-Dog Town

    Mary Hunter Austin was born in 1868 and died in 1934. This poem, like much of her writings, focuses on nature and animals.

    Old Peter Prairie-dog
    Builds him a house
    In Prairie-Dog Town,
    With a door that goes down
    And down and down,
    And a hall that goes under
    And under and under,
    Where you can't see the lightning,
    You can't hear the thunder,
    For they don't like thunder
    In Prairie-Dog Town.

    Old Peter Prairie-Dog
    Digs him a cellar
    In Prairie-Dog Town,
    With a ceiling that is arched
    And a wall that is round,
    And the earth he takes out he makes into a mound.
    And the hall and the cellar
    Are dark as dark,
    And you can't see a spark,
    Not a single spark;
    And the way to them cannot be found.

    Old Peter Prairie-Dog
    Knows a very clever trick
    Of behaving like a stick
    When he hears a sudden sound,
    Like an old dead stick;
    And when you turn your head
    He'll jump quick, quick,
    And be another stick
    When you look around.
    It is a clever trick,
    And it keeps him safe and sound
    In the cellar and the halls
    That are under the mound
    In Prairie-Dog Town.

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  18. 16. Wild Horses

    Picture these beautiful wild horses, hear their thundering hooves, feel the freedom.

    Thunder of hooves across the land,
    A gallant proud stallion is leading his band,
    With grace and beauty they gallop and run,
    Enjoying the freedom and warmth of the sun.

    They stop and graze on grassy plains,
    With only the wind to groom their manes,
    No man can govern where they roam,
    Fence-less pastures their only home.

    Stand proud wild horses with spirit strong,
    In man-less land where you belong,
    Untamed you gallop on land through sea,
    Forever wild ..... Forever free.

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    Incredible! This poem is so good, one in a thousand horse poems!

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  19. 17. The Butterfly

    I am constantly amazed by the simple beauty of all that is around us. All we need to do is to sit and be aware of the simple gifts of nature.

    Beauty Of A Butterfly In Nature

    The butterfly is a thing to behold,
    with colors more beautiful than gold.

    Flying hour by hour,
    going from flower to flower.

    Oh, how I enjoy your beauty butterfly,
    as I sit and watch you flutter by.

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    You are so right!! I live in the country, where nature is so obvious around us. We need to take time to smell the roses. It's a beautiful feeling.

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  20. 18. Food

    The food chain cycle never ends, and it never will end until every one of the upline predators has died and the only thing left alive is something similar to the one-celled primal ancestor of us all. If you are reading this, you are the most deadly predator to ever stalk this planet. Good hunting to you and ... try not to be dinner.

    The Predator's Hunt

    Crouched in grasses - sun is sinking
    food will come for evening drinking
    silent - still - panting - thinking,
    resting in the heat of sun.

    Sun goes down and sky is red
    food is coming - scent is read
    lust for blood engulfs my head,
    muscles tense for coming run.

    Here they come by twos and threes
    down to water - on their knees
    no scent of me is on the breeze,
    my hunt is only now begun.

    There's one limping - limping still
    he can't run with speed or skill
    he'll be my food - my easy kill,
    mark him well for he's the one.

    Rising - tensing for the fray
    alarmed - the herd stampedes away
    thundering hooves - all but my prey,
    my hunger peaks - this hunt is won.

    Explode from cover - extending claws
    closing fast on lightning paws
    pounce - his throat between my jaws,
    hold him down til kicking's done.

    Feasting now in cool of night
    flesh tastes rich and blood is bright
    hyenas hanging back in fright,
    I'll hunt again with newborn sun.

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  21. 19. A Moment To Smile

    • By Louis Gander
    •  Published by Family Friend Poems March 2009

    Louis Gander - Born 1954 in Richland Center, WI

    Poem About Ants

    Deep into the woods in my truck I seemed lost.
    The brisk, chilly breeze was still holding the frost.
    Because it was dried up and totally dead,
    I decided to cut down this big tree instead.

    The ants had been busy all over that tree,
    before my big chain saw had made them all flee.
    The noise and vibration and all the turmoil,
    (had it happened to me, would have made my blood boil).

    But they simply scattered if off to the races,
    to other safe havens - to other safe places.
    My muscles all ached from my head to my feet,
    but I felt so content - with my job now complete.

    It seemed that my actions were merely a bump,
    to ants now so busy inside that tree stump
    I wondered which one, if any, had won -
    the ants or myself as I thought my job done.

    As I sat on the gate of my rusty old truck,
    loaded down heavy with logs - was now stuck!
    I realized then that it's sometimes worthwhile,
    to sit back a moment, a moment to smile.

    ©2007 Louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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  22. 20. Spiders

    I was just looking at a spider one day in the kitchen while having a cup of tea.

    You should always keep a spider
    At least one in every room
    Give them a little corner
    With an offering of food

    They'll spin away at night
    And they'll hunt for you by day
    Keeping your house clean of pests
    In their very special way

    So do not go hard with insect spray
    When bluebottles and flies come your way
    Remember the little spiders
    Who hide themselves away

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    Wow, spiders. I am not fond of them. I know they can't eat much, but I don't want them crawling on me. Once my daughters found a tarantula and wanted him for a pet, so they put him in a class...

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